


Heat (anywhere but here)

by BaredWolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Frottage, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:13:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaredWolf/pseuds/BaredWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Purgatory is one giant hell hole, and only one thing made sticking around worth it for Dean: Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat (anywhere but here)

Some small part of Dean still couldn’t believe he’d done it. After months of searching Purgatory, he’d finally found Castiel. Days passed, and his joy at having Castiel back didn’t seem to fade. He found he kept touching Castiel, a hand on his shoulder or arm or back (no more hugs, since he wasn’t sure Castiel would hug him back and he wasn’t quite sure what to feel about that), just little reassurances that the angel was there. His angel, he guessed, who was real, and really here. Not that  _here_  was all that great: Dean was more than ready to hightail it out of this relentless bloodbath. 

It had been a few days since the river now, though, a few days of fighting their way in the direction of the portal and Dean started wondering if maybe Benny was taking them the scenic route. He asked. 

"Look, brother, we’re goin’ as fast as we can. Your angel," and there was that pronoun again, "he was way on the other side of this whole clusterfuck and it’s gonna take a while to get where we’re goin’." Dean just nodded, felt like a kid whining  _are we there yet?_  incessantly. 

"Oh captain my captain," Dean replied, and he should have expected the blank look this earned him from both Benny and Castiel. He rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand, "lead the way."

* * *

They agreed to bed down late that night, since Dean was staggering a little and things were quiet. 

"Think we can risk a fire?" asked Dean, blearily hopeful although he already knew the answer. Castiel just gave him a look that Dean couldn’t quite read (it had the general tone of  _humanity is utterly baffling_ , he thought) as Benny shook his head. “Yeah,” Dean said, “I figured.” They had found an outcropping of rock that formed a shallow recess cave. The outcropping was a good, high vantage point for keeping watch as it was covered in bushes to hide the watcher, while the cave below was partially obscured a screen of hanging vines. As security went, it was the better part of what Purgatory had to offer.

"I’ve got watch," grunted Benny, and Dean was about to protest before his exhausted brain caught up with the proceedings and he realized how stupid that would be. He was the reason they needed to stop at all, the human weakness of their little trio. He half expected Castiel to stay topside with Benny, since a little of the tension had bled out of their relationship after Benny saved Castiel’s ass (and what exactly was that about, Dean had been meaning to ask, because Castiel shouldn’t have needed saving there at all). But Castiel followed him as Dean shuffled his way towards the recess, footsteps too loud in the quiet night. 

Dean brushed the vines aside as he stepped into the cave, crouching. He stretched out on the ground, enjoying the soft cushioning effect of a thick layer of pine needles. 

"I’m gonna get some shut eye, Cas, so I’m afraid I won’t really be good company for a few hours."

"I’ll watch over you," Castiel replied, sitting down next to Dean’s hips. 

But as exhausted as Dean was, sleep wouldn’t come. He shifted around, trying to get comfortable: on his sides, on his back; he even took off his jacket and tried making a little pillow out of it but his consciousness just wouldn’t let go. His back ached and his feet ached, and really every single part of him fucking ached. He wished for a bottle of whiskey: if he couldn’t sleep, he could always just pass out. 

He flinched at Castiel’s touch, the gentle stroke of his fingers through Dean’s hair. “You need to rest,” Castiel murmured. “Relax.”

"Fuckin’ can’t, you keep poking me," Dean grumbled, but warmth bled into his muscles as they relaxed to Castiel’s touch, even as his pulse sped. He made no move to stop Castiel from touching him, so Castiel continued. 

After a minute, Dean rolled to his side so he could look at Castiel, whose fingers were still stroking gently over his scalp. Dean resisted the urge to bolt when Castiel slowly stretched out beside him, on his side facing Dean. He was still half an arm’s length away, but Dean could have sworn he felt body heat bleeding into the air between them. “Cas?” he asked, unsure of what exactly Castiel thought he was doing. 

"I’m sorry I left you," Castiel said, so softly Dean wasn’t quite sure he heard him at all. "You know it wasn’t because I wanted to, right?" Dean swallowed and nodded. "I just, I…" Castiel looked away, frowning slightly at the rock wall behind Dean’s head. "I need you to be safe." 

"I get that, Cas, really I do," Dean replied, "but I’m a big boy, man, I can kinda take care of myself." Castiel raised one eyebrow and Dean glared at him a little for it. "Fuck you, I can too." There was no venom in his words as he shoved a little at Castiel’s arm, not wanting to dislodge his hand from where it rested warmly on the side of Dean’s head, thumb stroking his temple. "I meant what I said. I get that you need me to be safe. But I need you to be safe too, Cas, and if you run off on me and then ignore my phone calls…." he trailed off. It still stung that Castiel hadn’t responded to any of his prayers, but he had seen the look on Castiel’s face earlier, saw that same hurt now: it hadn’t been easy. For either of them. 

He moved his hand from where it had been idly stroking Castiel’s forearm to the side of his head, mirroring how Castiel was touching Dean. He was seized by a sudden urgency, the hot ache in his chest threatening to spill over as he tugged at Castiel’s head until their foreheads rested together. “I need you,” he said quietly, wondering if Castiel understood him at all. He could practically hear the gears in the angel’s head turning, feel them under his hand. He needed Castiel to understand him. He acted on instinct, desperate to make Castiel see just how, and just how much, Dean needed him. He pressed his lips to Castiel’s: a soft, chaste touch that somehow both soothed the ache behind his ribs and stoked the fires hotter. “I need you,” he repeated. 

"You need me," Castiel parroted quietly. Then, in that same aching tone he had used by the river, "Dean." Dean smiled a little to himself. Castiel understood. And then he wasn’t smiling, because his lips were too busy kissing Castiel, who had rolled him slightly so that Dean was on his back and Castiel was above him. Dean tried not to groan as Castiel licked at the seam of his lips, just opened to him and let the kiss deepen. Castiel’s beard tickled around his lips, the sensation foreign and heady at once. He was dirty, Dean was filthy, they were still stuck in this fucking hell hole of a place, and suddenly it was  _alright_ , it was  _okay_  and they were going to be  _fine_ , because Castiel understood. 

Castiel’s hand had slid back into his hair, his weight resting on his forearm next to Dean’s head. Both hands freed from supporting his own weight, Dean cupped Castiel’s jaw, fingers tickled by the beard growing there. 

"Cas," he murmured into the kiss, hands relinquishing Castiel’s face to pull his body closer to Dean’s. Castiel was a warm weight above him as Dean pushed at the ragged trench coat. Castiel’s arms got tangled as he tried to wiggle out of the coat, and Dean smiled as he helped liberate his friend. They were both grinning by the time Castiel finally escaped his coat, Dean now leaning over Castiel’s prone form. Castiel grabbed him and kissed him again, a soft whimper escaping into Dean’s mouth as Dean slid a leg between Castiel’s, lining up their hips. 

Castiel’s erection was a hot hardness against his hip, soft noises passing between them as they rutted urgently against each other. They had to be quiet; Dean didn’t doubt Benny could hear them, knew exactly what was happening (he’d probably even seen it coming, the bastard), but it wasn’t Benny they had to worry about. 

The friction and heat of their hips together was breathtaking, maddening. But it wasn’t enough, Dean thought desperately, even as he rolled them so Castiel was on top again, sliding his hands under the hem of Castiel’s shirt to press into the hot skin of his back. Castiel groaned softly and bit at Dean’s mouth, panting, at the contact. Dean slid his hands down, slipping easily under the waistband of the scrubs pants, under his briefs, rubbing over Castiel’s ass and encouraging the rolls of his hips. He pushed the fabric down, but the front of the pants was pinned between them by the relentless friction of their grinding. 

“Cas,” he murmured into his friend’s mouth, releasing his squeezing grip on his ass to press at Castiel’s hips. “Cas, just a sec, lemme,” and Castiel caught on to what Dean was trying to do. He pushed his own pants down around his thighs as Dean scrambled with his button and zip. Pine needles rolled against his bare skin, the ends biting into his ass. He barely noticed, because he had Castiel in hand, was lining their cocks up, stroking them together. 

“Dean,” Castiel gasped. Dean bit back a groan, fighting the noises he wanted to make. (He wanted to scream, it felt so good, finally holding Castiel like this: finally  _having_  him.) He pressed his forehead against Castiel’s, both of their eyes transfixed by Dean’s hand. “Dean,” Castiel said again, awed and fucked out. Castiel rolled his hips into Dean’s grip, gasping at the twist of Dean’s wrist before he reclaimed Dean’s lips, trying to muffle his groan with Dean’s mouth. 

They established a rhythm, tongues and hips and hands, falling into each other. It was Castiel who came first, shaking apart above Dean as he shot hotly over his hand, white streaks splattering against Dean’s abdomen. The sensation overwhelmed Dean, suddenly, and he came hard, groaning his release against Castiel’s lips. They held each other as they shuddered and panted through the aftershocks. Castiel stroked a hand through Dean’s hair, dislodging dried leaves and pine needles, kissing him. 

As he pulled away, their bodies separating again into two distinct entities, Dean smiled at him softly. He tried to clean himself off, wiping his hands on a fistful of dried leaves. Castiel shrugged back into his trench coat as Dean refastened his jeans. Dean felt awkwardness edging into the situation, Castiel uncertain in the wake of their increased intimacy. 

“Cas,” he said, “I still need you.” Castiel smiled at that, stretching out beside Dean again before Dean pulled him close, rolling so Castiel’s front was pressed to his back and tucking their clasped hands to his chest. He gave in to the fog seeping into his mind; time to catch a little shut eye before he remembered where he was again. 


End file.
